


Just buzzin' about

by TheWeirdDane



Series: Monster fucking [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Bestiality, Breeding, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsters, Other, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Shameless Smut, Xenophilia, at first anyway lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7869727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Mojave dessert, everything is either a challenge or outright suicide. The Courier likes to toe the fine, fine line separating the two and one time get just a tad too close, even for her own liking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just buzzin' about

**Author's Note:**

> I've been using my own Courier as model for this because shameless self-insert. She's a stubborn lady who refuses to let anyone know her real name, so she just goes by "Courier", what a fucking edgelord

Many things in the Mojave sucked ass. Giant mantises with their freakishly big and sharp forelegs, the invisible night stalkers simply waiting to attack you, the spore carriers and spore plants hiding and pretending to be some stupid plant, and of course the Deathclaws. Legendary and feared throughout the Mojave, and probably rest of America, Deathclaws were able to eviscerate you with little more than one swipe of their massive, razor-sharp claws. They were impossibly fast and silent, their size taken into consideration, and one rarely came alone.

Despite all of this, there was one creature more hated than the infamous Deathclaws. One creature that warranted more hatred and more spray of bullets, louder screams and oftentimes, simple acceptance of death.

The cazadores were giant tarantula hawk wasps spawned from the innermost circles of Hell. They were relentless, fast, unforgiving, venomous, and a plethora of other and more negative adjectives. They were extremely hard to escape, and if you first got stung, death was as good as inevitable.

Naturally, the Courier took up the fight.

She was never afraid of a challenge, but a pack of cazadores was more than just a ‘challenge’; it was an outright suicide mission.

“Pft, those mosquitoes? We have bigger flies way back home,” she whispered to no one but herself and the rocks she hid behind.

The Courier hadn’t fought cazadores before, and she didn’t see the big deal. There were many, sure, but cripple the wings and fuck up the antennas, and victory was all yours, right?

Quietly, she exchanged her trusty shotgun for her even more trusty sniper rifle and lined it up to take the first shot. Her heart started thumbing faster against her ribs but her hands were steadier than ever. Trained eyes followed the creatures’ movements, calculated the speed with which the bullet would fly through the dusty air. Chapped lips quivered before turning up in a lopsided grin.

Then she had the shot and pulled the trigger in the same second. The recoil forced her arm out of its steady position but she resumed it in no time and found the pack in the scope within seconds.

They were all on the move. One of them flew haphazardly around behind the others, and it looked determined to find the culprit who fucked up its wing.

As determined as a mutated bug can look, of course.

“What the fuck,” she hissed and sent a couple more bullets flying, managing to cripple another wing pretty severely before they were too close and the sniper rifle would be useless. The Courier hastily put it down and withdrew her shotgun while taking a few steps back, lower lip dragged between her teeth and eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

Every bullet counted.

Then the first cazador made its ugly appearance on top of the rock, and the Courier aimed in its general direction and pulled the trigger.

She did a good amount of damage but the bug was relentless and darted forward with a speed that she was nowhere near prepared for. She shot it again as it tumbled her to the ground, and the following screech indicated that it had been a successful attack.

“That’s right, you fucking bitch,” the Courier snarled, rolled around and got on one knee, aiming for the cazador’s head and firing a round square in its face, causing the body to fall on the ground and the head to roll away.

But there was no time to celebrate. The Courier had just enough time to reload before another ugly motherfucker entered the picture, and behind it was its equally ugly buddies.

“Not to-fucking-day!”

For the best of ten minutes, the only sounds were the shotgun spitting out bullets, the Courier screaming obscenities and the cazadores screeching and buzzing. But despite her skills and adrenaline, the Courier was unable to kill all the bugs before they got to her.

As had often happened before, she found herself cornered and with no way to escape. The only thing between her and a pack of bloodthirsty, frenzy monsters was the shotgun, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like much more than a rusty piece of junk.

But it still packed a punch.

“Get the fuck away from me,” the Courier hissed and slammed the bottom of the weapon square in the nearest cazador’s face, which only seemed to fuel its fire. It roared in a terrifying manner before jabbing its massive stinger straight into her abdomen, causing the Courier to scream loudly and drop to her knees, a hand clutching the stung, and now bleeding, area.

The cazadores settled, calming down. Took care of their wings, cleaned their legs. Suddenly they didn’t seem all that interested in the Courier who just sat there, bleeding and groaning and muttering curses under her breath. But while she expected to become nauseous and see life flash before her eyes as she died a painful and dramatic, if not lonesome, death, nothing of the sort happened.

At first, all she experienced was nausea, yes, and a throbbing pain in her abdomen. She tried curling in on herself, tried stretching out, tried different positions, but nothing helped. But oddly enough, the cazadores didn’t react. They turned their ugly faces to see what she was doing, but that was all.

Every now and then, one of the younger ones would creep over to her and let their antennas tickle her face. It was a horrible feeling that left an itchy sensation in her skin wherever the hairy limb had touched. The Courier managed to smack the bug each time it happened, and she thought to herself that maybe if she could do this for a few months, she might just survive.

After a while, however, she started feeling warm and sweaty. Her clothes stuck to her body, and it was with a lot of groans and curses that she opened her coat and shrugged it off. While doing so, she noticed that the cazadores watched her more intently - how can an insect even _do_ that? - and stopped whatever they were doing.

“What the hell are you looking at,” she grumbled and sat up with quite a lot of effort to tug off her shirt. Beads of sweat slid down her forehead and back, and she could practically feel her pants suck up the liquid and hug her legs tighter.

“Can’t you just finish what you started, this heat is killing me.”

Little did she know that she was not going to die. At least not today. And at least not by the mutated insects watching her.

Their wings fluttered and emitted a sharp, but vague buzzing sound. When they rubbed their massive, hairy legs together, it sounded much like a grasshopper or cicadas. These sounds were the only ones filling the air, and it was eerie.

Finally, when the Courier had stripped off all of her clothes save for her boots, the temperature was finally right. She let out a deep, pleased sigh, followed by a grimace, before lying down again and reaching for her coat to shield herself. Despite the many rumors flying around, she still had _some_ shreds of decency, and even if these were just bugs, she wasn’t going to die naked in front of them.

But the nearest cazador had other plans. It grabbed her coat and took off. Just like that, it stole her precious, and quite heavy, coat.

It was useless, but she couldn’t help shouting after it.

“Hey! Bring it back, you disgusting creature!”

Of course, she got no response. In the next moment, she was forced on her back by another cazador. Its impressive front legs pressed down on her shoulders and the slimy mandibles clacked above her, dripping a foul-smelling fluid unto her face. The antennas rubbed it all over her face, causing her to grimace, and while every move ached, she struggled to get away.

Right up until the stinger was once more planted in her abdomen, but this time it didn’t hurt. There was a vaguely itchy feeling all around it, but no pain.

“What in the hell,” she forced out between gritted teeth, her entire body tense in anticipation of pain. The cazador emitted a low buzzing sound, the mandibles rubbing against each other with a sickening sound, and started moving in a way the Courier instantly recognized. Back and forth, slow and calculated.

With each move, the stinger slid in and out of the wound, and while it provoked no pain, it was disgusting to know that the creature was basically fucking her stomach. But furthermore, with each thrust, the unbearable heat within her seemed to subside, and with each thrust, her insides seemed to itch.

Before long, the cazador stopped thrusting and stepped back, its giant amber-orange wings fluttering almost excitedly in the quiet afternoon, and another quickly took its place. This one was already busy chewing on something, but before the Courier could see what it was, the hideous beast had smothered it all over her hands and wrists, and it quickly solidified.

Essentially, it had rendered her helpless and more unable to escape than she had been before.

And if their actions had been confusing before, they certainly weren’t any longer.

“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be _fucking kidding_ me,” she moaned in exasperation and instinctively tugged on her wrists, trying to get free, but somehow, the material had already hardened, and fighting was futile.

Then the biggest of the cazadores stepped forward, knocking the worker away, and used its strong hooked claws to push the Courier’s legs apart, all the while rocking its abdomen. And while she could barely believe her eyes, it also seemed entirely possible. Anything was possible out here.

The stinger transformed before her very eyes. It grew in width and length and seemed to become even more rigid than before.

“You’re not fucking laying your disgusting eggs in me, you sick fuck!” the Courier shrieked and kicked out at the bug. It was a perfect kick to the thorax, but the cazador simply flapped it wings and snapped its mandibles at her face before lining up.

No matter how much she kicked and wriggled, the Courier couldn’t stop what was about to happen. The cazador once more pried her legs apart with its claws and made room to move closer and closer, until the ovipositor was against the Courier’s crotch.

Unabashed by her shrieks and pleas, the bug inserted the ovipositor.

A mix of a scream and a whimper escaped her but she stopped squirming. The... _thing_ was firm, warm, vaguely pulsating and... _excreting_ some sort of fluid. She could feel how it lubed her up, a thick and warm secretion coating her insides.

‘ _Preparing me_ ’, she thought to herself with a shiver.

And she would hate to realize that it wasn’t only fear that made her shiver.

Above her, the cazador clicked its mandibles while its eerie, blood-red eyes seemed to focus on her. The spikes covering its back rose and fell, seemingly with no connection to its other actions.

As the cazador started rocking its abdomen, the ovipositor followed suit, and it didn’t feel rough or uncomfortable at all. If anything, it was actually nice and... _arousing_ , God help her.

“This is not happening,” she whispered to herself, but oh yes, it was. The bug settled a slow but firm pace, and with each thrust, the Courier had to bite back a moan as the ovipositor caused ripples of pleasure to rush through her body.

Steadily, the egg-laying limb grew wider and wider until it felt like the cazador was trying to insert a golf ball into her. The creature stopped thrusting and rubbed its antennas together with a high-pitched sound, and the Courier desperately tried not to moan when her pussy throbbed in almost agonizing pleasure.

But alas, it was impossible.

When the first egg pushed through, she was filled with horror and dread that she found the experience incredibly hot. This was a bug, a mutated fucking bug laying eggs in her, and she _liked_ it?! Surely she had taken more radiation damage than she she thought, because this was beyond disgusting! And yet it was so _good_.

Around her the other cazadores were getting impatient, rubbing their antennas together and flapping their wings, but the one currently impregnating her was in no rush. It simply started cleaning its front legs as the egg pushed through the ovipositor.

“No, no no no, get out,” the Courier pleaded when the limb started pulsating again. Each move sent despicable jolts of pleasure through her despite many attempts of denying it. Before long, she felt the ovipositor push out its egg, and no matter the walls of flesh and meat, the wet ‘plop’ still reached her ears.

The Courier let out a high-pitched, embarrassed moan and shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to convince herself that she was _not_ enjoying this, and that the wetness between her legs was _only_ to help the monsters hurry the fuck up and leave her alone.

But while she had never had much morale or consciousness, she was a horrible liar and not even to herself could she pretend that she wasn’t finding this unbearably arousing.

Having finished its business, the bug scrambled away to make room for the next hideous thing, and the Courier managed to get a glimpse of the stinger. Like with the other, it had grown wider, longer, more rigid. Awkwardly, the cazador clambered closer and moved on top of her, and while it was impossible to see, it felt like the monstrosity stared at her before inserting its ovipositor with a sickening, slick sound and started thrusting. Already wet from the previous monster - and definitely _nothing else_ \- there was zero pain, only the infuriating pleasure that surged through her lanky body as the bug fucked her vigorously.

With each surprisingly powerful thrust, her body jerked and rubbed over the sand, and the many tiny stones dug into her skin and cut it open, causing her to wince and try to wiggle in a way that would ensure as little dirt as possible got into the wounds. Oblivious to her struggle, the cazador kept fucking her, the stinger-turned-ovipositor pistoning in and out of her at a relentless pace, and it didn't take long before the creature stopped moving and rubbed its antennas together, like the first one had done. Then the Courier felt the disgusting (and definitely _not_ disgustingly _arousing_ ) way an egg made its way inside her with a sick, wet sound before being dumped beside the first.

Just like the previous cazador, this one scrambled away, and another hurried to take its place. Then the fucking started, and it ended, and the next started and ended, and it went on and on for hours, given by the way the sun moved across the blazing blue skies. The Courier had lost track of time, something that happened only rarely, and normally she would be anxious, but in her current state, she couldn't nor wanted to care. The only thing bothering her was that she hadn't gotten relief. She hadn't gotten a single orgasm, and by now there was at least five or six eggs inside of her, and it was so unfair she wanted to _scream_.

But as was to be expected, the mutated bugs cared little for her, knowing that their offspring would eat their way out of her and easily survive in the world that was basically their playground, where close to everyone feared them and bolted away at the simple sound of their wings rather than taking up the fight.

Unlike her.

* * *

The Courier knew the cycle of a cazador like the back of her own hand, and it would be a cold day in Hell before she let the offspring of a pack of them devour her. But seeing as the bugs hadn't bothered to release her, she could do little else but squirm and tug furiously on the disgusting saliva-whatever mixture that held her to the ground. She was fully aware that she needed to get rid of the eggs before they could hatch, but she should have plenty of time before that happened. If she hadn't gotten them all out before then... well, she would rather not dwell on that option.

The only other option was to push them out. It was beyond embarrassing, closer to mortifying, but even that didn't seem to do it justice.

The Courier took a few deep breaths before tensing every muscle of her body, shifting around in hopeless attempts to position the eggs better.

It took a while but finally, _finally_ , she felt the first egg sliding in the right direction. Borderline delirious with relief, she pressed as hard as she could, gritting her teeth hard together to avoid screaming out, and about a minute of white-hot pain, as well as _something else_ , later, she heard and felt the egg leave her body.

She leaned her head back and breathed heavily, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she desperately tried convincing herself that she had _not_ felt arousal when laying the egg. That it was simply because there now was one egg less to deal with, that she was closer to not being eaten alive by an army of tiny but still mutated tarantula hawk wasps. Yeah, definitely just that, nothing else, that was entirely impossible.

After a few minutes of baking in the setting Mojave sun, she continued.

Paying more attention to her body's reactions than necessary proved to be exactly the worst thing she could have done.

As the egg moved lower, elliptical and smooth, the Courier felt a mortifying chill run down her spine, and she only barely contained a moan when the egg pressed against a sensitive spot _just so_.

Oh god. She needed that again.

Completely and totally unaware of what she was doing, the Courier clenched and started rolling her hips against the ground, suddenly not caring about her sounds of delight in the slightest. The only thing going through her head was that she _needed_ the egg to rub against that very same spot again, and she would not let up before it had happened.

So there she was. Naked and restrained in the Mojave desert, the sun starting to disappear in the horizon and leaving her freezing, rolling her hips against nothing in particular while trying to stop the egg from dumping on the ground beside its sister. Or brother. Or whatever. Not like she fucking cared, she just desperately tried to chase that sweet, sweet feeling.

How much longer it took was unclear to her. But finally, fucking _finally_ , the smooth surface rubbed against just the right bundle of nerves, and the Courier moaned loudly into the breezy evening air, her muscles clenching and causing the egg to simultaneously try to slide out but also get sucked back inside. It was absolutely revolting, and she would drink her face off when all of this was over and done with, but right now it was the hottest thing she knew.

" _Fffuuucck_ ," she groaned and leaned her head back, twisting and squirming to chase the feeling as heat started pooling in her lower stomach, and she noticed she was trembling from the effort of angling the egg just right, and, god, _there_ it was, right fucking _there_ , only a little bit more, and--

The world exploded in white bursts, and for just a moment, everything seemed to disappear, leaving only the amazing feeling running through her body, white-hot ecstasy filling her veins and having her back arching off the ground. A throaty, raspy moan left her, and her hands tugged wildly at the mixture keeping them against the dirt.

Then the egg plopped out, and relief was washing over her, from the orgasm as well as the fact that now there was an egg less to deal with.

After allowing herself some minutes to catch her breath and calm down, the Courier got to work again. It was hard and exhausting, and despite the evening steadily turning to night, she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Egg after egg left her body, leaving her equal parts relieved and disgustingly aroused, and every now and then, another orgasm hit her with an almighty force. When the smooth surface managed to angle itself just right, she could feel it reverberate throughout her entire body, and she was unable to hold back her moans, pleas, whimpers and whatever else pathetic sounds escaped her chapped lips.

Despite her situation - naked and restrained in the Mojave at night, unable to defend herself if something were to happen - the Courier didn't have the mental capacity to worry about dangers. Not Deathclaws, not another pack of revolting cazadores, not the otherwise strangely adorable night stalkers, or anything else. She was in her own little world where the only thing that mattered was getting the eggs out and wrenching out as many orgasms as possible while doing so. It was mortifying beyond belief, and she vowed to never mention it, not even on her deathbed. Sure as hell she was taking this to the grave. _Alone_.

How much longer it lasted, she had no idea. All she knew was that she was trembling like a leaf when, at long last, she felt a strange emptiness in her stomach, and her body seemed to slump against the ground, exhausted beyond belief and sweat rolling off her skin and making her shudder in the chilly night air. She stared up at the sky, blessedly free for clouds, and let her eyes rake over the thousands and thousands of stars.

Something, somewhere, in the back of her mind, was begging her to go over this rather unusual turn of events, but she was adamant that no, this was _never_ going to resurface again, and she would rather try to chew a Deathclaw to death than think about this day ever again.

Begrudgingly, she knew that it would resurface in a lot of her dreams (try as she might, she couldn't get herself to label it as a nightmare), and with a long and deep sigh, she accepted it.

In a sudden flash of realization, she sprung back to life and kicked wildly around to hopefully kick the eggs as far away from her as possible. They reeked of, of _slime_ and _fluids_ and whatnot, and it was most definitely not in her interest to get personally acquainted with creatures interested in such... _aromas_.

In the next moment, she got the brilliant idea of attempting a backwards somersault and then rip or stomp her hands free. Groaning at the effort of moving her bruised and pained body, she somehow managed to end up on her feet _and_ keep her balance. Blinking and trying very hard not to look at the cluster of eggs scattered around on the ground, she bumped her boots against the disgusting mixture keeping her hands prisoners. It cracked a bit. Spurred on by the tiniest development, the Courier kept kicking at it and finally, at long last, it gave enough way that she could get free.

Immediately, she grabbed her abandoned shotgun, looked over the eggs a final time before slithering away in the lieu of darkness. No one ever had to know she had been here.

**Author's Note:**

> She survives AND gets orgasms; this lady's got it figured out.
> 
> Come over and say on tumblr! c: commander-mcgee.tumblr.com


End file.
